


Disappearance

by TheReichenbachFail (GYPAFY)



Series: Sherlock Prompted Ficlets [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drug Use, not really actually, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:22:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GYPAFY/pseuds/TheReichenbachFail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock ficlet #2, prompt was 'disappearance'.</p><p>After the fall, John is never unable to contact Sherlock. Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disappearance

**Author's Note:**

> These all really aren't edited that much, I wrote them all in 15-30 minutes, so don't judge me. I own nothing.

John was happy. He had gotten off early from work, and, turns out those silly scratch lotto cards really did give you money! It's not like 30 euros was a ton, but it felt good to win something.

"Sherlock!" He called out into the flat as he got home. "Guess what just happened?" John asked, waiting for a response, but nothing came. 

"Actually on second thought, you probably shouldn't guess." Sherlock would just tell him that a man who wasted his money on lotto cards the amount of times John did had some sort of high statistical probability of winning, and that he had lost more money than he had gained buying lotto cards through his life.

"Sherlock?" John called again, curious why Sherlock hadn't replied. Guess he just wasn't home, which wasn't completely odd for him, but he usually at least texted John before running off on a case.

John pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text: Where are you? -JW

Sherlock never, ever took more than a minute to reply to John. It was actually sort of frightening at first, but John had grown used to it, and now cherished that Sherlock gave him the time of day. But there was no text, and now John was worried.

He texted Sherlock again: Are you okay? -JW

After not receiving a reply for ten minutes, he phoned Lestrade. "Have you seen Sherlock?" He asked, hoping Lestrade would say yes.

"Nope," he replied. John could almost hear the other man's shrug. "Why?"

"I can't find him, he's not texting me back." 

"Well you know how Sherlock is, always running off. He probably just forgot to tell you."

"Yea, thanks."

"Bye."

Well that was no help at all. Lestrade obviously didn't understand. After the fall, Sherlock had outright swore to not leave John hanging. Ever. It had been a year and a few months, and he had never broken his promise.

John rationalized with himself. Sherlock was probably fine, he probably just had to do something completely un-dangerous, and he was perfectly fine. He could be with Mycroft, the Diogenes Club was known for it's extremely thick walls, so Sherlock wouldn't receive John's text, plus, he wouldn't be expecting anything from John, considering he would normally be at the surgery at this time.

Yet, John couldn't help but sit in his chair and stare nervously at the door. It was a huge relief when he heard quick footsteps climbing the stairs, and shuffling into the apartment. Sherlock ran in and shot straight past John and moved quickly to his room.

"Sherlock? I thought you had bloody disappeared!" John said. Sherlock froze.

"Why are you home?" He asked coldly, not turning around.

"Got off early…what are you holding?" John hoped his suspicions were wrong. They weren't. Sherlock turned slowly, a small bag containing white powder clutched tightly in his hand.

"Why?" John asked, feeling quite... betrayed. Sherlock told him he wouldn't do this anymore.

"It was…" Sherlock spoke, sighing. "I finally, truly, understand what you went through, after my fall. It's… I just hate the idea that I could've ever inflicted so much pain on you, I don't deserve you, I don't deserve this." Sherlock gestured around the flat. "I deserve to rot away with all the other druggies and nobodies in London."

"Sherlock, stop this. You know it's not true. I understand why you did it, even if I was depressed then. All that matters is that I have you now, but you're not you when you're on drugs."

"That's all I am…" Sherlock muttered.

"Shut up Sherlock. You are the greatest, and wisest man I've ever known. I know I can't stop you, but please don't do this."

Sherlock sighed looking up at John, and finally, finally gave him a small smile.

"Okay."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have a prompt you would like me to do, leave it in the comments! I love receiving prompts!


End file.
